


Dead hearts don't cry

by tooyoungtoknow



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Kira Wins (Death Note), Get it?, I'm Going to Hell, M/M, So happy in fact, Teru is happy, that he cannot think straight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:41:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28097100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tooyoungtoknow/pseuds/tooyoungtoknow
Summary: Everything about that moment was beautiful. The way they died, the way silence was left in their wake, the way his God looked in his victory.
Relationships: Mikami Teru/Yagami Light
Comments: 6
Kudos: 57





	Dead hearts don't cry

Kami's face looked momentarily saddened when they started falling around him. His enemies, the men he had worked with, the little boy with feather-like white hair. Nate River was a beautiful name, and its owner died beautifully. Clutching his small, heaving chest in silence with pale hands, he cast a heated, accusatory glare upon Kami, which appeared so childish that it seamed he had just lost a game of Parcheesi, and then he was gone. The little plastic figures he left on the ground tangled in his white hair.

The others shouted, writhed in agony, called out to some imagined God, not noticing that one was standing right there amongst them.

And Kami looked beautiful. Beautiful like the light of heavens shining down, beautiful like truth at last, like justice and trumpets of victory and...

He was looking at him. Those eyes of burning amber, shining enough to bring him forward and out of the darkness, reaching out for salvation. It had happened then, years ago when his face had still been covered with the tears for his mother, and it was happening now. The world put into perspective, a future certain, one single, true and good path layed before him. His body moved before his mind did. It seamed as if he were only a spectator now, witnessing the movements of his legs, the wild beating of his heart, the air searing his lungs.

Heaven knows how his hands found themselves on either side of Kami's waist, scrunching up the clothes, feeling the lithe curve of the body beneath. He smelled like cologne and divinity and felt like silk underneath his fingertips. And then as he was hoisted into the air, with strength unknown and unexpected, his arms came to rest on Mikami's wrists, clutching tight until the knuckles turned pale. And Mikami spun around, laughing, loudly and clearly and the world seamed to be filled with the sound. 

Kami's weight in his arms might as well have been nothing. His fine, tailored suit was not meant for the fussing it was submitted to, but Mikami couldn't bring himself to care. Mikami, who had always cared about straight, rigid lines, perfectly polished shoes and tidy suitcases was spinning a divine being in his arms, and so all the straight lines were becoming blurred, and all the edges soft. 

And Kami looked beautiful again. With his hair almost red against the backdrop of the warehouse roof, and his shining eyes blown wide with shock, and his lips parted still with a command he hadn't had time to utter. 

And he said nothing as the air swirled around him, looking down upon his most loyal lieutenant and deputy. He stayed silent as Mikami slowly came back to his senses, letting him down, hands nervously smoothing down the creases on his jacked but not letting go. Not just yet. His finger trembled and his wrists burned where Kami still held them in a vice-like grip. Slowly, gradually, the long, willowy fingers lessened their hold. Delicately they moved, sliding soft skin against his wrists, till the very tips were pressed to his pulse point. 

His breath caught somewhere inside him, his eyes falling somewhere down, to the tie pressed against the pearly white of Kami's shirt. Apologizing would be trivial and absurd, introducing himself unnecessary, to stare would be rude, but not to stare profane. Not knowing what to do was only right and expected in the face of God. And so that is what he did. He waited. 

And the voice of God came, and blessed, and laughed. Like silver bells and violin strings Kami's laughter echoed, passing over the bodies of his enemies, through the cracked floorboards and into the whole of Mikami's being. It reverberated against the cage of his ribs, filling the space where for so long he had believed a dead heart was beating. Now it swelled, and jumped, and raged against the tight and constricting embrace of his lungs. 

The fingers slid against his wrists again, beneath the cuffs of his shirt, right against the vein. They pulled at him, kept him there, feet on the ground and eyes unseeing. 

Kami spoke again, calling him things like "confidant" and "loyal" and "dear". He told him to look upon him, and so he did. On his lips was a smile.  
"We have won." he told him, and Mikami didn't know wether he was talking about the two of them, or about the world, but he nodded anyway. 

And as he felt those lips kiss him, light like sea-foam and flower petals against his forehead, against his fluttering eyelids, at the corner of his mouth, he felt the tears finally escape and slide down his cheeks.

**Author's Note:**

> God, this is dramatic. But then again so are Light and Mikami, so I suppose it's fitting.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this earnest, if weak, attempt at writing this criminally (terrible pun intended) underrated ship.
> 
> It is kind of sad that many view poor Mikami only as a super-gay-for-Kira, fanatic crazy person, when in truth there is so much more to his character. There is also the fact that the majority of fics depict his and Light's relationship as violent and abusive. I mean I can see where that is coming from but I still feel the need to make Teru happy and bring a bit of light (see what i did there? I will stop I promise, i'm so sorry) into his miserable life.


End file.
